


Once Upon A Camelot

by anarchycox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aladdin AU, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Arthur is a Disney Princess, Banter, Cinderella AU, Falling In Love, Gwaine is a dashing hero, M/M, Merlin is a fairy godfather whether he likes it or not, Romantic Gestures, Snark, Timelines, and swords, arthur is sheltered and touch starved, because that amuses me, but he'll just have to cope, gwaine likes touching people, he doesn't, it's a bit of a fusion of the two, morgana is a wee bit of jafar, never heard of them, set during the era of the show, swords also save the day, true love saves the day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Arthur has never seen all of Camelot. Uther is terrified of assassination attempts (of Arthur learning he is a complete dick) so Arthur has stayed mostly trapped in the keep barring a few diplomatic trips where he was never allowed to explore beyond being delivered to the other castle. All he wants, it is to meet the people that he is to one day lead. But luckily he has a new servant Merlin, who agrees to help him escape the castle and see the rest of Camelot.Gwaine is enjoying the spring festival, and even more so when he meets the well built blond farmer, who seems in awe of lower town. When the man disappears leaving only a ring behind, Gwaine is determined to find the handsome stranger.Merlin is the greatest sorcerer ever, he didn't expect to have to be a fairy godfather.
Relationships: Gwaine/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you know me, you know I am all about fairy tale aus, welcome to another one.
> 
> This isn't set in a particular season of the show, more just the world of the show itself.

“So then, where are you actually from?” Arthur looked Merlin. He had been given the new servant a month ago, and hadn’t particularly paid attention to him. He was assigned new servants all the time. They came from all over, gifts from other kingdoms, people from lower town, he never paid much attention but also this servant was still here. Usually they were gone after a fortnight. The scrawny man must have something going on, it certainly wasn’t keeping Arthur’s room clean. His bed looked dreadful. He frowned, “do you have any training at all as a servant?”

“Do you have any training as a decent human being?” the man snapped, and then froze. “Sire,” he tacked on but didn’t apologize. 

Now that was interesting. Arthur crossed his arms and glowered at the man. Boy. Fuck how young was he? “How old are you?”

“What is with the questions all of a sudden? We had a good relationship. You ignored me, I mostly ignored you. Did just enough of the job that you couldn’t be bothered to complain. Let’s go back to doing that.”

“What is your name?” He had never had a servant speak to him with such cheek before. 

“You don’t even know my name? I get you dressed every morning!”

“Well, I don’t exactly need to know your name to have you put on my shirt do I?”

“I’d think when a man gets as close to your balls as I do, you’d have the courtesy of knowing their name. Lords above, this is the man I was sent to put on the throne? What joke are the gods playing on me this time?”

“What are you on about? Are you a madman?”

“Probably,” Merlin sighed a bit. “Arthur, let me go back to ransacking your library now, alright?”

“No, it is not alright,” Arthur stepped forward. “What is going on? Did my father even assign you to me?”

“My name is Merlin, I am from Ealdor, and I am your destiny.”

Arthur looked at the man’s face, serious, calm. And he did the only thing he could. He laughed. He bent in half he was laughing so hard. “You? My destiny?” He snorted he was laughing so hard. “Right, some scrawny bumpkin is my destiny. Next you’ll tell me you flew here on a dragon.”

“No, the only dragon left in Albion is chained under this keep.”

Arthur had to sit down he was laughing so hard. “Next you’ll tell me you are the greatest sorcerer ever, and are here to bring magic back to the lands of Camelot.”

“I am the greatest sorcerer ever, and I am here to bring magic back to the lands of Camelot.”

Arthur couldn’t breathe. “I like you, Merlin. Not had a servant with a sense of humour before. I like it. Now get my clothes for today, and then clean my armor. I’m going with the patrol through lower town.”

Merlin snorted a bit. “No, you aren’t.”

“I am,” Arthur insisted. 

“Your father never lets you leave the keep grounds. Hell, you are barely allowed to look over the ramparts. How exactly are you going to get by the guards?”

“They are my men. And I have been out of the keep before.”

“The courtyard doesn’t count.”

Arthur frowned. “I have been to Essetir, I have sat in the court of -”

“One castle to another, really seen so much of the world have you.”

“I’m trying to!” Arthur shouted and then drew back. “Merlin, do as I have ordered. I am seeing lower town today.”

“So you are going to be completely insufferable when you fail. I’ll have a bath, and some wine ready then. So much for the forbidden knowledge about magic in your archives.”

“All those sorts of books were burned,” Arthur said. He has seen the fires.

“Your father is a jackass and a bastard, but he isn’t a complete idiot.”

Arthur stared in shock as Merlin went to his wardrobe and pulled out the under layer for his armor. “You dare?”

“Yup.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I should see you whipped, put in the cells.”

“But you won’t. Here, these will work for your, what is it, 24th escape attempt?”

“37th,” Arthur replied unthinkingly, and the man actually tsked in disappointment. “The first dozen hardly count, I was barely into my manhood.”

“Uh-huh,” Merlin came over and pulled his sleep shirt off. “Well maybe 37th will be the charm. And hey, think of it this way, when you realize you are an idiot and cannot do this alone, you’ll remember I’m the greatest sorcerer ever and you’ll let me help you escape.”

He smacked Merlin on the shoulder. “I really should put you in the stocks. You have to know how dangerous even joking about magic is here.”

“But you aren’t going to.” Merlin was holding out the clean shirt and Arthur slid into it. “Because I’m the first person who hasn’t been scared of you in a long time, and you like that. And besides, even if you did - magic, I’d just bust out. How long has it been since anyone talked to you like you are the annoying git you are, Arthur?”

It was true. He was the crown prince, the heir to the throne, and his father expected that he only have the best. He hadn’t been the reason he had gone through so many servants. It was because there was a small mistake and his father would be furious and dismiss them for not respecting their future king more. Arthur tried to insist small mistakes were no reason for dismissal and then his father would call him weak. And Morgana would sit next to him and smirk. “You need to stay away from my father,” Arthur said quietly. The amount of cheek Merlin had it wouldn’t be dismissal, it would be imprisonment.

“Oh don’t worry, I cast a spell, he can't see me. All good. Now then, what is your plan this time?”

“A helmet.” Arthur smiled pleased. But Merlin was looking at him like he was an idiot. “What it is a good idea. I never wear a helmet. So they won’t think to look specifically for me under it. Sometimes simplicity is the best course of action.”

“Simplicity, a simpleton, fine line really. Well, good luck with that. I’ll also get you some nice apples. You like apples.”

“It will work, you’ll see!”

Arthur made it three steps passed the keep gates at the end of the courtyard which was one of his better escape attempts, truth be told. Leon however had been a part of the returning patrol, and recognized him right out. He was a good knight, and a good man, and a complete boot licker, so he immediately blocked Arthur’s path and the patrol realized who was with them, and he was hustled back into the keep walls.

His father lectured him for an hour about the importance of Arthur staying safe in the keep, protecting him from all who want to assassinate a prince of Camelot. That he should be far too busy with his studies and training to even care about dallying about. Morgana suggested that he was probably trying to sneak off to find a brothel, and despoil himself ruining marriage prospects.

“I’m not a girl, Morgana, it doesn’t matter if I have relations with someone before marriage.” Not that he had had a chance with how much Uther watched him.

“No, she is right,” Uther said.

“She is?” Arthur blinked.

“I am?” She was clearly just as surprised.

“Well, it is impressive to prospective matches, the unspoiled prince.” Uther nodded. “I hadn’t actually been thinking that way, and frankly had assumed you had bedded a servant or two, but I don’t think you have, have you?” Arthur figured the blush on his cheek gave him away. He had sort of thought of maybe starting something with Morgana’s former maid servant Gwen, but she had run away with a knight named Lancelot a year ago. And good for her, getting out of this miserable palace. Just like how he swore he would. “Yes, the noble and honourable prince. So concerned with his studies that bodily passions have little sway on his mind.”

“You know hiring a bard to sing of his purity, would be a wonderful thing.”

“Thank you, Morgana, indeed a wonderful idea,” Uther agreed.

“Thank you, Morgana,” Arthur agreed. “Father, if I am to rule one day, you need to let me meet our people. See what life is truly like in Camelot. I am no good to them, if I don’t know them.”

“Nonsense, they are poor and rely on us. What more do you need to know?”

“Ways to help them be less poor?” Arthur said and saw Merlin give him a thumb’s up where he was leaning against the wall. It seemed no one else saw him though. Fuck, was the man a hallucination? He didn’t have time to think on that now. “Father, I am twenty two now, well past the age of majority in any land in Albion. Let me see the world. Understand it, so that I can rule one day as well as you.” Flattery never hurt. He saw Morgana’s face hardened for a moment. She either didn’t like the false flattery or didn’t like the thought of Arthur ruling. 

“No, it is too dangerous out there for you,” Uther snapped. “Your mother died saving your life, and you would reject that gift, that honour? Deny all that she did for you.”

“No,” Arthur’s shoulders slumped, “No of course not, Father. I should go, read up on our treaty agreements with the north.”

“A sound idea. And I do think you will study best without supper tonight.”

“A child’s punishment, really?”

Uther’s smile was cold, frozen as his heart. “For a child who doesn’t follow rules, it seems apt.” Morgana laughed and even clapped, and he would not give them the satisfaction of another word. He left and Merlin walked out with him. 

“Well, knew Uther was going to be a problem, but lord Morgana is really the one we have to watch out for isn’t she?” Merlin saw a servant walking with a plate of fruit and stole a couple apples off it.

“Merlin!” she scolded.

At least the man wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“I owe you,” Merlin called to her, and tossed one of the apples to Arthur. “Here, not supper so he can’t get too high and mighty.”

Arthur waited until he was in his room though to bite into it. “Fucking Leon,” he groaned.

“Nah, he’ll learn. He is one of those believes in the crown sorts. He’ll eventually see how your father is shit and serve you well when you are king. He just needs to get laid or something. Which wasn’t that fun, having your father and sort of sister discuss your sex life in front of seventeen people?”

Arthur put his head down on the table. “If you are a grand sorcerer can you stop that ballad from happening?”

“Greatest sorcerer. It is greatest sorcerer and I could, but not going to.”

“Why not?”

“Better uses of my power.” Merlin went and lay down on the bed. “Old gods but this is a comfortable bed. I have this straw and rope thing with Gaius.”

“Gaius? Our physician?”

“Hmm, he is my uncle.”

That explained a lot. “And you couldn’t serve as his apprentice.”

“Wanted to, lots I still need to learn about potions. Spells come naturally to me, clearly. Potions are a bear. Uther wouldn’t pay for an apprentice, but you needed a servant, and since you are my destiny, working out okay.”

Arthur finished his apple and tossed the core into the fire. He paced around the room and waited for the servant to do something, say something but then he heard snores from his own bed. He looked over and Merlin was asleep. Arthur realized just how young the man was, and the heavy circles under his eyes. If he was from as small a place as Ealdor running around the keep to fetch everything Arthur needed in a day had to be exhausting, especially if he was perhaps helping Gaius out in his spare time.

The boy was a fool for joking about magic like how he did, but Arthur supposed there was something charming in that bit of mild insanity. He tossed a blanket over him and went to the window to look out. He could see just a bit of lower town. Next time. Next time he would manage an escape.

*  
Escape attempt forty-three found him locked in a tower until he learned that all this was for his own good. Morgana was the one to bring him dinner and her pretending to care was worse than the sarcasm and casual cruelty she usually greeted him with. She said it was a shame he was going to miss the spring festival gala, but his excuses had been made, terrible stomach trouble and it would be rude to shit himself in front of the guests.

It was a nice room he had been locked in, he supposed. He looked a bit around, it was all under sheets. He lifted them and a smell wafted, gentle and sweet. Arthur clued in these had been his mother’s rooms, the tower where she did her embroidery and other work. He lifted all the sheets away and looked at everything he could fine. He didn’t remember her at all. How could he, she died saving him. In birthing him, she had told Gaius to cut him out before they both died. He lived and she died, and his father never let him forget it.

Arthur opened a box and found some jewelry and smiled a bit. There was a ring, old with her noble crest on it. He put it on his pinkie and it fit, just a little loose even. Either she had had broad fingers or he had surprisingly slim ones. It made him feel close to her. He sat on the ground even though there were chairs. When you felt unbearably alone, it made more sense to sit on the floor.

A fire crackled out of nowhere and he looked at the door. “Really, greatest sorcerer ever, and all you can do is light a fire?” He tried to stay calm, but everything he been taught about magic suggested that he was about to be killed. Uther had always said magic was out to kill Arthur. He stayed where he was, and looked Merlin in the eyes. “Why has my bath water been cold if you could do that?”

“Hardly fulfilling destiny’s plans if I heat your bath water, is it?” Merlin came and sat next to him, leaned against the tower wall. “Did you really think dressing like a girl would work?”

“No, not really, but what else am I supposed to do?” Arthur looked at him. “Just kill me.”

“Do you believe magic is evil?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “It is what I’ve been taught.”

“And I was taught how to milk a cow, doesn’t mean I should be doing it.” Merlin held up his palm and conjured a dragon of light and it flew away, disappearing before it reached the ceiling. “What do you think? Not what you were taught - what do you think?”

“Some knights are good and noble, and some go bad, go wrong. I suppose I think magic is like that. Some are good, some are bad. It is just when magic goes wrong, it could tear the kingdom apart.”

“I suppose it could, unless of course, the king had the greatest sorcerer the world have ever seen by his side.” Merlin was watching him. “If a man had that at his side, it would probably change things.”

“Uther would never -” Arthur realized that he had called his father by his name, a thing he could have never imagined doing, until the word just fell from his lips. 

“Not Uther. You. When it is your time, I will be at your side. We will meet destiny together.”

“Merlin, look no offense, but I think you might be a bit insane.”

“I regularly talk to the dragon below the keep, I am fairly sure I am a lot insane. But my magic? I swear it Arthur, it is all for you, only for you and the good of Camelot.”

“How can I be sure?”

“Because, tonight, I am getting you the hell out of the keep, and into lower town for the spring fields festival.”

Arthur had heard the servants talk of the event, always with eagerness and excitement. They had a parody of the festival in the keep, a formal ball. But the tales of the proper party always sounded magnificent. “How?”

“Magic,” Merlin grinned. “Trust me.”

“Not in the least. No offense.”

“None taken, but I’m all you’ve got.”

It was a fair point. “What do we do?”

“How do you like the clothes that I am wearing?”

“They are awful,” Arthur replied immediately. Merlin was grinning, and Arthur sighed. He was sure that he would not like whatever was about to happen next. 


	2. Chapter 2

Gwaine didn’t mind Camelot, it had decent taverns, work to pick up easily enough, better than the small villages he had wandered his way through. He had missed big cities. He would get the itch to move on soon enough he was sure, but for now he could enjoy himself. And there would be a lot of enjoyment to be found that night. It was the spring equinox which meant the fields festival. There would be dancing and ale, a willing lass or man, or three or four, if Camelot was anything like other places he had been for the fields festival. 

He had had a good run of luck between gambling at the tavern and working here and there, he could afford to indulge a few pretty women or interesting men in some treats this night. Gwaine had been kipping at the blacksmiths, helped him in exchange for room and board. He brought a few buckets over from the well and had as a good of a wipe down as he could. He had plans for the night that could be ruined if he smelled rank. He washed his hair, and put on his clean pair of clothes. 

Gwaine could hear calls in the street, laughter, music pouring from doors. There would be no work that night. It was a time to celebrate hope and promise. To enrich the fields. Even in the city they understood the importance of this night, and he bet many would find their way out passed the city walls tonight, into the grasses outside Camelot, the woods. There were fields as well if you walked just a bit. He was sure many would. Gwaine hoped he would. But first there would be much fun to be had in the town square.

He headed in that direction and there were fires, and women wearing as little as they dared, men shirtless, and Gwaine bit his lip. He moved through the crowd and pulled a woman onto the area that had been turned into a dance spot. They moved together happily, but they knew they weren’t right for each other that night. He kissed her hand and spun her into the grip of another man, and could see they had that field connection.

Magic was in the air, not that he’d say that aloud in Camelot. But anyone who didn’t feel it was a fool. 

He didn’t lack for partners on the dance floor, but none were quite what he was looking for that night. He wasn’t superstitious, but just superstitious enough to believe that on field night, to lay with a partner you didn’t feel connected to could lead to a bad planting. Better to go without, than with the wrong partner on that night. 

But there was plenty of fun to be had, he just needed a bit more fuel to enjoy it. He went to the tavern and purchased some ale and a couple skewers that he was fairly certain wasn’t rat, a win indeed. Gwaine looked around the tavern, there were a few games of cards and dice going, and he was trying to pick which to join when the man walked into the tavern, and every instinct in Gwaine screamed that this was the right person. This man was his meant to be connection for the field festival. 

Blond, good shoulders in hideous clothes, poor even by lower town standards. He was looking around at all the people and noise with an air of confusion and fascination. Gwaine smiled a bit, country lad first time in Camelot, perhaps with a trade group, or even looking for work. And he was gazing at everyone so enraptured that he didn’t realize he was about to be robbed.

Well, Gwaine did like to be dashing hero, upon occasion. He went over and twisted a wrist hard, just as it was reaching for the man’s purse. “Now that is not in the spirit of the field festival, is it?”

“Boy is stupid enough not to protect his purse, well he gets what he gets, doesn’t he?”

“You were going to steal from me?” The young man sounded shocked, but up close he wasn’t quite as young as Gwaine had first thought. He was of age at least, which was a bit of a relief. He wouldn’t bed a child, no matter the pull of the field night. “That gets you the stocks for a week.”

“Only if you report it, and you won’t, not tonight,” Gwaine said.

“The hell I won’t,” the man said.

“Trust me, no guard wants to deal with so minor an issue tonight. And neither do you?”

“Don’t I?”

“Well if you do, you’ll be busy and I can’t buy you a drink, dance with you under the stars, and doesn’t that feel like the true crime - missing that?” Gwaine shoved the thief away. “Do you really want to deal with him, when we could be having a night to remember?” Gwaine smiled at the man. “Gwaine.”

“God bless you.”

“That’s my name, Gwaine.” 

“Oh, sorry, it is a nice name. Did you know there was a man puking outside? Just puking in the street? And no one was caring.”

“Well, some people cannot hold their liquor.” Gwaine pulled the man to the bar. “You didn’t give me your name.”

“No I didn’t.” And it was clear that he wasn’t going to. Gwaine wondered if there was someone back home wherever the man was from. But that wasn’t his business. He was only interested in the one night as well. 

“Very well, but I have to call you something. Pet?” There was a nose wrinkle. “Boyo?” A snort and eye roll. “Love?” A flat look, but there was amusement and the man wasn’t walking away. “Princess,” he teased and there was something, something in those eyes at that. “I know,” Gwaine turned, and took the mugs of ale from the woman behind the counter. “Something that suits this night, the field festival.” He took a sip of his ale, but didn’t say what he was thinking.

“Well?” the man huffed, “What do you want to call me?”

“Seedling.” 

The man had a charming laugh, sweet and a bit too loud. “No? What about sweet, sweeting? You look very sweet.” A flush rose on the man’s cheek. “There we go then. Now let me guess, first time in Camelot?”

“Sort of,” the man agreed, and drank more of the ale. “Definitely first time at a festival here.”

“Bit different than the field festival in your village?”

“You could say that. There is more…traditional,” he agreed. He finished the ale. “More?”

“Sure,” Gwaine agreed. He was getting a pretty clear picture. Some small villages were rigid and formal about the planting festival, a designated couple planting the field, everyone else praying and not having any fun. Well he was going to make sure the man had a fun night. He brought over more ale and some of the food and the man clearly was confused how to eat the skewers. “You can pluck it off with your fingers, wrap some bread around it, or simply eat.” Gwaine brought it to his mouth and tore off a bit of meat. Juices ran down his chin a bit. “Messy, but very tasty.” He watched the man take a small bite and nodded when the man made a happy noise. “Big advantage to Camelot. The king is a bastard, who takes too much from the people, but spices are in abundance. Some of the best food I’ve had in my travels.”

“You call the king a bastard?” the man sounded shocked. “He is your king?”

Gwaine had to laugh at that. “I serve no man but myself. He is definitely not my king. From all accounts, calling him a bastard is being kind. Heard tell he has his heir locked away, never even gets to see the sun. Some say he has killed the boy, determined to have power only for himself.” He watched the man slide away and it was fair, that was the wrong sort of conversation that night. “My apologies, sweeting. Enough conversation and ale, come. It is field night, we should be dancing.”

“I am not the best dancer.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fantastic.” Gwaine pulled the man outside and the people were wearing even less than they had been an hour ago, and fuck it, he took his shirt off as well. He pulled the man into the dance square. “Now then, which dances do you know for this night?”

“I don’t -” the man was looking at the women being lifted into the air, the whoops and the stomps. “There is so much touching.”

“Of course, sweeting, it is field night.” Gwaine pulled the man close. “Here, luckily no one is doing the calls to the gods yet, so we don’t have to worry about any particular steps, we can just enjoy.” He wrapped and arm around the man’s waist and enjoyed the feel of hard skin, thick muscles. The man clearly laboured hard, and he felt perfect against Gwaine. “Just follow my lead.”

“I’ve never been this close to anyone.” He looked panicked and hungry for more, at the same time. 

“Well, give me a few dances, and we’ll be even closer yet.” He began to move his hips, caught the beat of the drums and then began to move them properly around the dance square. The man was fairly wooden at the start but then on a spin he melted against Gwaine and began to smile. Yes, he was absolutely the right call for that night. The next few dances, Gwaine pulled the man in closer, until they were plastered against each other. The man was flushed from the heat of the crowd and of dancing, and Gwaine hoped because of him. He brushed his nose against the man’s and was going to kiss him, when the beat of the drums changed. A few of the women called out and Gwaine groaned. “Looks like it is the call for the season.”

“There are breasts!” the man’s jaw honestly dropped. “A few of them, there are breasts almost out!”

“The gods like a good pair of tits,” Gwaine agreed and he moved off the dance square and stood behind his sweet farmer. He wrapped his hands around the man, pressed them against his firm stomach, pulled him close. “Do you not do this in your village?”

“We do not,” the man replied and was clearly staring at the sky.

“You can look, they chose. See some of the women are covered, some aren’t.” Gwaine watched them move in a circle and start to spin. “It is to ask the gods for rain, soften the ground so that the planting goes into fertile soil. Which many will be making fertile tonight.”

“I don’t understand,” the man said.

Gwaine realized that he really didn’t. He wondered if the man was from the coast, where the spring equinox wasn’t about the soil, fertility, but about calm seas or the such.

“Don’t worry about that, just enjoy, the show.” The women were moving in sync, rolling their hips and calling out in old tongues and prayers. They threw their arms to the ground and men began to join them, a call and response dance that was seductive, life affirming. Gwaine lifted his hands away from Arthur to clap the beat, as most of the crowd began to. Couples gravitated towards each other, the ones who had found their field connection. 

The man turned and looked at him, “Do we dance too?”

“I was hoping we would.” Gwaine pressed his hands to the man’s hips. “Sweeting, will you dance with me this night?”

“I will,” the man agreed. He clearly was looking at all the other couples and pressed himself close. “It is all rather erotic.”

“That it is,” Gwaine agreed and kissed the man, moved their hips in tandem. The music was growing quicker and there was laughter and moans, and people were gravitating out of lower town, out into the grass, the wood, the fields. Ready to make their offering of fertility and promise to the fields. 

But he knew his sweet little farmer couldn’t handle that. He was debating which alley they could go to when, he heard the call of the guard. It was near midnight, switching of the knights that patrolled. 

“What’s that?” the man asked.

“Just the knights, changing of the guard. Ignore them. We were doing far more interesting things, and about to do many more.” He looked in the man’s eyes. There were a rich colour, he could drown in them. “I know an alley, shouldn’t be too busy. Or we could go to my bed, if you prefer.” The man was a bit dazed looking, already wrecked from their dancing and a kiss. He had to given another. “Why those bastards do a midnight call, I’ll never understand. Wakes up bairns who need their sleep.”

“Midnight is a cruel time,” the man agreed and then blinked. “Midnight?”

“Yes?”

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t,” Gwaine tried to persuade. “It is the field night. The only place you have to go is with me.” He kissed the man again, but when he pushed, Gwaine let go. “I read this wrong?”

“NO!” the man shouted. He looked so torn. “I have to go. But you? Oh god, you were perfect. I am going to dream of you for a long time, even after I’ve forgotten your name.” There was a messy and too hard kiss pressed against his mouth. The guards called again. “I wish, I wish I could just have a bit more time.” But the man turned and began to jog away. He didn’t look back, and Gwaine wasn’t going to call after him. It would feel too cheap. He looked at the ground and there was a ring. He bent and picked it up. His farmer had been wearing one earlier, and it must have fallen off.

It was too dark to tell the symbol on the flat face so he moved closer to the fires. It was a noble crest. What was his sweet naive farmer doing wearing a noble crest. He didn’t recognize it, but it was the sort of thing you could easily look up in Camelot. But not that night. Gwaine went into the grasses and made a solo offering to the gods as the sounds of enjoyment surrounded him. He put the ring on his pinkie, just for safe keeping. Likely he’d forgot all about the farm boy in a week or two.


End file.
